


right two three left two three

by mirkandmidnight



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ballroom Dancing, Dancing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 17:24:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8809510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirkandmidnight/pseuds/mirkandmidnight
Summary: Sometimes Courfeyrac does really idiotic things. Agreeing to teach his friends to waltz was one of them.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [C-chan (1001paperboxes)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/1001paperboxes/gifts).



> This was a wonderful prompt and I am so glad I got to write it.

Courfeyrac pushed the door to the Musain with one hip, pulling his hat off and loosening his scarf as he stepped into the warmth of the cafe. He brushed snow from his curly hair and glanced around. Combeferre and Enjolras were already at the biggest table, deep in discussion. At the other end of the table sat Cosette, Marius, and Feuilly, doing paperwork and playing on their phones.

Feuilly glanced up from his phone. “Hey, Fey,” he called, “You took ballroom dance last semester, right?”

He grinned and went over to stand next to him. “Yeah, I still do the club sometimes. Why? Don’t tell me you need lessons.”

He shrugged. “Marius needs to learn a waltz with Cosette for his granddad’s holiday party.”

“Oh, the dear old senator is welcoming you back into the fold? Is he getting senile in his old age?” Courfeyrac nudged Marius with his elbow.

“He’s up for reelection this year. It’s a fundraising party. And we’re only supposed to be there for support or something. Be the face of the younger generation.”

Cosette looked up from her phone. “I know enough to get by; it’s really just Marius who needs to learn. Can you help?”

Courfeyrac hesitated. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to help them out. Marius was his roommate, not to mention a close friend. But it wasn’t exactly a secret that he’d had a crush on Marius since they met. It’s probably why he offered to take him in, after his grandfather kicked him out. And Cosette was lovely, she really was, and she’s a good friend, but if he has to teach them to dance with each other and look at each other all googly eyed, he just might go insane. 

“Yeah,” he said, and immediately regretted it. “But we’ll do it separately at first. No point in having you two start together if you don’t know anything.”

Right. That’s totally the reason.

He started with Marius the next afternoon, in the ballroom dance club’s practice space. And because he was a disaster of epic proportions, ended up sprinting in twenty minutes late with a boombox in one hand and a CD case in the other hand.

Marius looked up from where he leaned against the wall. “Courf? You all right?”He approached, a look of concern on his face, and Courfeyrac wanted nothing more than to have the earth swallow him whole.

“I’m fine.” He brushed the snow off his coat and started setting up the boombox in the corning. When he turned back, there was a bright smile pasted on his face that he certainly wasn’t feeling.

“Okay!” He clapped his hands together. “You’re going to learn to lead a waltz today. Normally I’d teach you both parts, but eh.” He shrugged. “How often are you going to do this, in any case?”

Marius shrugged. “Not that often, I guess.”

Courfeyrac nodded and went to switch on the boombox. “Cool. Okay, then, put your left hand on my waist.”

Marius squawked and turned a shade of purple that would have been delightful under any other circumstances. Marius’s innocence was just so charming, except when Courfeyrac was the one making him uncomfortable.

He sighed. “It’s not that hard, Marius. It’s not like we’re grinding.” Marius’s ears went red, but he did as instructed. Courfeyrac put a hand on his shoulder and grabbed his other hand, pulling their chests flush with each other. 

This was a mistake. This was such a mistake. Because now he knows exactly what Marius’s hands feel like on him, and it’s not helping whatever the fuck crush he’s dealing with here. 

He can deal with this. He can get through it. Courfeyrac steeled himself and looked up, just to the left of Marius’s eyes. “Okay. This is basically just tracing the outline of a square with our feet, to start with.” He took a step back and demonstrated, then repositioned Marius’s arms. “Now you try.” He set his shoulders and began to count.  


It was going to be a long afternoon.

Cosette, bless her heart, took much less time and effort to learn to waltz. Then again, they were in swing club together, and there wasn’t the added awkwardness of him secretly having a crush on her.

Just of him having a crush on her boyfriend, so like that barely even counted.

“Thank you for doing this,” she said. “I don’t know if Marius said anything, but we’re both very grateful for your help.” She paused. “I know it can’t have been easy.”

He laughed a little, keeping his voice light. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Cosette looked at him steadily. “If you ever want to talk about it, you know I’m always willing to listen.” And that was the kicker of it all, that Cosette honestly would listen if he decided to tell her about it. She wouldn’t judge, and she wouldn’t find it all odd that he’d chosen to tell her about his thing for her boyfriend.

“Thanks, ‘Sette,” he said. “But I don’t think you can help me with this one.”

And he’d thought that would be the end of it. Problem solved, waltzing crisis averted, Marius and Cosette could dance off into the sunset while he cried into his ice cream. Not that this was something Courfeyrac had ever done before. That would just be ridiculous.

But nooooooo, apparently the universe wasn’t finished with the farce that was his life.

They were all over at Feuilly and Combeferre’s apartment, sprawled in various states of disarray on the furniture and the floor. Bahorel was snoring in an armchair, Jehan curled up next to him like a cat. Courfeyrac was on the floor, squished between Combeferre and Enjolras. Just as Mulan was singing about her reflection onscreen, he extricated himself from the tangle of limbs, ignoring the sleepy murmurs of protest and heading to the kitchen for some snacks.

Courfeyrac snagged a can of soda and some chips and turned back, jumping when he saw a figure in the doorway.

“Christ, Marius,” he hissed. “You almost gave me a heart attack!”

Marius, predictably, didn’t say anything. God, how did he manage to get a crush on this dweeb? Courfeyrac’s talents are beyond him.

“Is there something you wanted?” he finally asked.

Marius took a deep breath. “Will you go to the fundraiser with me and Cosette?”

For a moment, Courfeyrac just looked at him, trying to parse this. “I’m sorry? I think I just hallucinated. What was that?”

He repeated himself, and Courfeyrac shrugged. “Sure, I guess.”

It wasn’t until he was back in his own apartment that he realized what he’d agreed to doing.

“Fuck. Shit. Why’d I do that?”

A head popped up from behind the couch, inky hair flopping in a style that somehow managed to appear messy and elegant at the same time. “What’d you do this time?” Montparnasse asked. 

He jumped. “Christ, what are you doing in here?”

Montparnasse shrugged. “I was invited. You don’t think I’m the sort of person who just waltzes into other people’s flats, do you?” He paused. “So what did you do?”

“Something really stupid.” Courfeyrac groaned. “Can you call in a hit on me?”

He raised a single, perfectly arched eyebrow. “I’m a social media consultant.”

***

The night of the gala came faster than he could have thought possible, and before he could find a way out of it, Courfeyrac was buttoning up his best suit and climbing into the backseat of Cosette’s car.

Someday, he would learn not to do things he knew from the beginning were bad ideas.

The party was massive. Gillenormand’s house was enormous, and Courfeyrac wasn’t even aware that people had ballrooms anymore, but here packed in with at least a hundred old white people sipping champagne and eating hors d’ouevres. 

“Wow,” he said, to no one in particular. “This is nuts.”

“I know,” Marius replied, face ashy.

Cosette, ever practical, took the lead. “Why don’t we all go and find your grandfather, Marius?”

Courfeyrac waved a hand. “You two go ahead, I’ll wait right here.” There was no way he was going to stand around and watch them present themselves as a couple to Marius’s grandfather. The man was actually a fascist, and Courfeyrac wasn’t exactly eager to see him again.

But the two of them came back awfully quickly for it to be something like that. Well. Marius had never been close with Gillenormand, had he? It was only natural that there would be a little bit of tension.

“Everything go okay?” he asked.

Marius shrugged. “Fine. Why?”

“No reason.” He took a bite of sushi that he’d snagged from one of the waiters. “Nice party.” Where the fuck is Cosette. It would be really great to have some kind of buffer, since he was apparently incapable of making conversation at all.

The string quartet in the back corner struck up a waltz, and couples started moving to the center of the ballroom. Okay, seriously. Where was Cosette?

Marius took a deep breath and held out a hand, palm up. “May I have this dance?”

Courfeyrac’s brain short-circuited. “What.”

“Will you dance with me?”

“What about Cosette? Your girlfriend? Won’t she be mad?”

Marius stared at him as though he’d grown a second head. “Cosette has been dating Eponine for the last two months, Fey. So, no?”

What.

“Okay,” he said, and took Marius’s hand. And it was so easy.


End file.
